The Hero's Dismissal
Meanwhile, at that very moment, the Hero's party—
"Hero! I'm coming in!"
To shake off the tangled thoughts weighing on her chest, Apis barked the order in an even harsher tone than usual. With a rough kick, she slammed the door open. Flutter, flutter. The moment it swung wide, a chaotic flurry of pure white papers scattered like flightless doves, repeatedly obstructing her view. Yet the golden eyes of the elf, sharp enough to single out one specific wyvern from a flock of thousands, paid the sudden obstruction no mind. They locked onto their target with effortless precision.
A single beautiful sword.
If one were to define the woman before her in a single sentence, Apis could think of no more accurate expression. Golden hair that seemed woven from sunlight filtering through the trees. Porcelain skin untouched by scars or even a single blemish, despite countless battles survived. This perfect being, formed from such fantastical elements, was surely the most convincing proof that the race called human could indeed produce something worthy of being called a god.
The Hero. Triana Abigail.
Even without a shred of admiration or reverence, whenever Apis described her impressions of the woman honestly, the words somehow always ended in praise. Apis, who had poured most of the money earned from adventures into collecting human fairy tales—especially those about the Hero—had once wondered, upon first meeting her, whether this woman had stepped straight out of the pages of one of those books. Her breathtaking appearance had played no small part in that suspicion.
"...What the hell are you doing?"
Apis muttered in a tone far removed from her earlier reverent descriptions—something closer to sheer disbelief. The sight before her was simply too absurd: the Hero standing on her hands atop the floorboards, lost in thought, her posture eerily reminiscent of the legendary sword from human fairy tales that waited buried in the ground for its destined master to arrive.
"Oh! Apis! What brings you here at this hour?"
The voice was so loud and resonant it made one forget it was the dead of night, when even the sun had long since gone to rest. Apis knew full well that this was the Hero's attempt at speaking more softly, so she managed to bite back the sarcastic remark that threatened to escape her lips. But she couldn't hold back everything.
"You're one to talk. What kind of nonsense are you up to in the middle of the night...?"
"I was channeling blood into my head!"
"...What?"
"While struggling with unfamiliar paperwork, a brilliant idea suddenly struck me! Just as one gathers mana into a specific part of the body, what if I concentrated all the blood circulating through mine into my head? If I could do that, perhaps this daunting task—comparable to striking a top-tier golem with resistance to slashes—might become a little easier!"
"...And? Did it work?"
"Not at all! It only made me dizzy!"
"Then why not just stop?"
"A most reasonable suggestion! I shall do so at once!"
In one fluid motion, the Hero flipped through the air and landed gracefully back on her feet. Watching her, Apis thought, She's the same as always today. When had she started feeling familiarity rather than exasperation toward this woman's absurd remarks—remarks that seemed to pull concepts from another dimension the moment she opened her mouth? Was it because she was pure? Or simply an idiot? No, the most fitting description was that she was honest and upright to a fault.
She was optimistic, as if she only ever looked toward the bright side of the world, yet not so blindly optimistic that she ignored the evils lurking in the shadows or the suffering they caused. She carried immense pride in her own words and actions, yet she also listened carefully to opinions that conflicted with her own, never neglecting to guard against the arrogance that often plagued the blessed. Because she was this kind of person, Apis could accept her as the Hero—someone truly worthy of bearing that sacred title, even if she differed greatly from the ideal Apis had once admired.
"I had a feeling... but of course. You're still obsessing over that idiotic apology letter, aren't you? We already concluded that incident was the fault of those soldiers who botched the carriage wheel maintenance and those human brats who were practically begging to die. There's no need for you, the Hero, to apologize—"
"No! It was my responsibility! I was too distracted by the citizens' cheers and failed to prevent the child from falling in front of the carriage! If one commits a fault, one must bear the corresponding responsibility! If I neglect that duty, then I have no right to call myself the Hero!"
"Right... Of course you would say that... But still, did you really have to smash the statue you went through all that trouble to have made?"
"It was an unavoidable decision! If I hadn't destroyed the statue myself, someone else at the scene would have had to take responsibility for its damage!"
"..."
But that statue... wasn't it made because you were looking for 'that guy'? The words Apis couldn't bring herself to say aloud. She had always been wary of political repercussions and had little interest in material desires. It was extremely rare for the Hero to make any request of the royal family outside of matters related to subjugating monsters, and it was the first time since receiving the title that such a request had stemmed from personal desire. When the Hero had asked for a statue of herself to be erected, everyone in the party, Apis included, had been shocked. Some high-ranking officials had smiled, seeing it as an opportunity to curry favor, while conspiracy theorists whispered behind her back that she was becoming obsessed with fame. But when the Hero personally named the village where the statue would be built, Apis understood the true meaning behind the request.
Ridin Village. A small, unremarkable place with no notable landmarks or specialties—mentioned only in passing during casual conversation among comrades. A name that had remained submerged at the very bottom of memory until the Hero spoke it. 'That guy's' hometown.
Apis could still vividly recall the Hero's hesitant demeanor when she made the request for the statue. It was like watching an ignorant child who had never once thrown a tantrum or asserted her will. "I-I would like... a s-statue... in R-Ridin Village..." The Hero, who always spoke with such bold, declamatory confidence, had looked at the ground instead of the sky and spoken in such a small voice. It was the first time Apis realized she was even capable of that. The Hero herself had offered a rare, flustered excuse—that she simply wanted to see an object that looked exactly like her but didn't breathe—but Apis, who knew all too well how special the Hero considered him, could only pretend to believe the clumsy lie.
It was surely her own awkward way of sending a message: I am here. This unchanging form will wait for you until the very end. On the day of the parade, her desperate search through the roaring cheers had overlapped with the image of a fragile girl waiting for a reply to her letter. But that message had been shattered. And by her own hands, no less. For reasons that left her no choice.
Apis didn't know what expression the Hero had worn when she destroyed the statue with her own hands. The Hero always insisted on wearing a bright, cheerful smile in public, claiming she had to extinguish the world's anxieties. She must have been smiling. She had to have been smiling. There was no doubt she was smiling. Because she was the Hero.
But that night, Apis had clearly sensed the tears someone had secretly buried in a pillow. This time, she couldn't pretend not to notice. She couldn't overlook that pitiful act of trying to deceive even her own heart. That was why—
"Hey, Hero."
"Hm? What is it, Apis! With such a serious face! Gasp! Don't tell me you have some kind of problem—"
"Get out of this party."